Thanks so much for the reviews! It's pretty nice to see those again. Schwartzibrow is pretty near finishing this story, but you guys still have at least twenty chapters to go. I hope you like it!

Six Years Later

I sat upright in my hospital bed and gently held my belly. It feels empty.

"How are you feeling?" my grandmother asked softly, not at all in her usual tone. She sat carefully beside me on the bed.

I nodded, choosing to look at the blank white wall instead of her. She can always tell when I'm lying, even though I've managed to master the art of not flaring my nostrils anymore. "I'm fine. I'm...I'm better than fine. I'm Princess Amelia and the crown is fine...It's all fine. Right?"

Grandmere reached for my hand; I'm sure she felt how cold it was. "Amelia, I know you're health is not in jeopardy now, but the crown is not fine. Without your...womanly parts, how are you to conceive a child? An heir to the throne?"

I gaped at her. In truth, I hadn't even thought about this. How come nobody mentioned it to me BEFORE the operation? Was there something else they could have done?

"I, uh...I don't know. I don't..." Is it my fault I was too preoccupied with saving my life and such to think about the future of the country AFTER me? I mean, I thought it was enough that I was ensuring there was someone (ya know, ME) around to take over after my dad. But now, who's gonna take over after me? I bet even Sebastiano will croak before me.

"Shh," Grandmere said. "Don't worry about it right now. We've just got to get you back to your old self. Surviving cancer is one thing, but having a hysterectomy is a completely different kettle of fish. You need to relax."

Kettle of fish? I didn't know exactly what Grandmere meant by this, but I didn't particularly care to know right now. All that matters is the crown.

And that means: Olivia.

-

Two weeks after the hospital released me, and Grandmere still hasn't brought up the whole 'we need an heir' situation with me again. I think she's scared of what I'm going to say. And what it's going to mean.

Though she never said anything out loud, I think she was secretly happy when Michael and I split up. She blamed her hatred for him on the fact that he cheated on me, but I know it was around well before that. And she was never anxious for us to get married either. She probably knew it wouldn't last, and didn't want my 'good name' tarnished with the word DIVORCE.

And in hindsight, I kind of have to thank her. It was a lot easier to walk away when we didn't have any legal ties. And Michael was more emotionally attached to the baby than me. I was in Genovia for most of the first year of her life anyway.

God, I always do that. I always refer to her as 'the baby'. Even when I was still with Michael, I always called her the baby. Her name is Olivia, and I guess I've got to get used to it.

Especially if I'm going to have to go and find her now.

She must be four...no wait. She's gotta be older than that. Six?

I sat down on my bed and carefully opened the bottom drawer of my bedside table. I never open this drawer. Never.

Well, once a year. But that's it.

I was expecting to see cobwebs and spiders all over everything when I finally drummed up the courage to open it all the way, but it was clean. The only thing currently inhabiting this drawer are the letters Michael sends me once a year, on the bab...on the occasion of Olivia's birthday. Moving each letter aside, I counted six.

That must mean she's seven, since she was one when I first left.

Unbelievable. I have a seven year old child out there and I know nothing about her. What does she know about me?

I gently fingered the torn edge of the first envelope. It's the only one I've ever opened. The rest are in mint condition. I guess I'm scared to open them.

I mean, opening them is admitting that I ran out on this child, and I know nothing about her. It's like admitting that she exists, and half the time I like to live in denial. And I know Grandmere does.

That's horrible, I know. I'm a horrible mother.

I always used to kind of hate my father for never being around, but at least he called, visited, and he let me visit him whenever possible. But have I even bothered? That'd be a big fat NO.

I wonder what Michael's even told her about me? Does she know I'm the Princess of Genovia, and that that means that she too is a princess? Oh God, I'm not going to have to go into this without her knowing anything, am I? It'll be like when I first found out I was a princess. Only worse, because to her, I'm just a stranger.

Maybe if I lie down and close my eyes, when I wake up everything will be different. I'll still have a working uterus, and I can forget about Michael and Olivia completely...

-

My plan worked temporarily. I mean sure, I didn't magically grow a new uterus, but I forgot about my problems for a while. The letters (still unopened) went back into the drawer, and I went back into my world of denying that the love child I had with my ex-boyfriend even exists.

But then Grandmere had to ruin it all my calling one of her excruciating family meetings.

"What's this all about?" I asked as I sat down at the gigantic table we only ever use when we have a formal sit-down dinner.

"Your health," she said simply, looking sideways at dad.

"What about it?" I asked. "I'm fine. I've been fine since the operation. I'm taking all the tablets they prescribed, and I'm sticking to their rules. What's the problem?" Inside I kind of already knew where this conversation would lead, but part of my living in denial world means feigning knowledge of everything, until someone actually comes out and says the words.

"Amelia, you know very well what this is about. You can no longer produce an heir to the throne."

Did she have to say it out loud? A meaningful look is much easier to ignore.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "There's always adoption..." I suggested, knowing full well what her reaction would be to that idea.

"That's not a possibility, Mia," Dad said, looking truly sorry for me.

"And it's not necessary when you already have a child," Grandmere added. "Now, you know as much as I do that I hate admitting that you have this child out of sin, but it's now a matter of how this problem will benefit us, rather than hinder us."

I nodded sheepishly. There's not much really for me to say, is there? Inevitably, Olivia is the next princess of Genovia, and the next in line for the crown, after me.

"So now, we need to work out where we go from here."

"Does that mean I have to talk to Michael?" I asked, hoping she'd say that she'd do it for me. But I know I'm dreaming.

"No, Amelia," she said, shocking me. "You have to go see him."

Just when I thought things were going my way for once.

An old pal makes an appearance next chapter. Actually, a few old pals.